Beauty and The Beast: GaaraxHinata
by oakenshieldmaiden
Summary: The title says almost everything. Slightly AU, and some changes to the plotline.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is my first attempt at a GaaHina, so here's hoping things turn out well. The prologue was a pain because I had to listen to the CD over and over to get the words exactly from the beginning of the play/movie.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto or Beauty and The Beast; Naruto is property of Kishimoto-sensei and Beauty and The Beast belongs to Disney, I believe. The lyrics and music to the movie and Broadway play belong to Alan Menken and Howard Ashman.

Prologue:

_Once upon a time in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within._

_And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. _

_Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose which would bloom for many years. If he could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast forever._

_As the years went by, he fell into despair, for who could ever learn to love a beast?_

In truth, my tale has been stretched, twisted and in all ways distorted over the years to suit the fancies of storyteller after storyteller, and I fear that the true facts have faded and mixed with myths. But much of the real story has survived along with the fiction, and so I write this, not as a fairytale or bedtime story, but as an honest retelling of one of the greatest love stories of all time:

_Beauty And The Beast._


	2. Packages

The sun was only beginning its climb into the bright summer sky, but the small town of Konoha was already bursting with early morning activities; a few housewives on errands or gossiping filled the streets, the regulars at ramen shop chatted and boasted about their exploits over games of Shougi, and Uzumaki Naruto was receiving his daily pounding from a certain bad-tempered kunoichi. As she stalked off, large forehead creased in annoyance, Naruto put a hand to his bloody nose and wondered what he had done this time.

-

Hyuuga Hinata hurried down the street, long, shimmering strands of blue-black hair flying in all directions. She clasped something tightly to her chest, lips taut with worry. _I have to get there on time!_ She rushed around a street corner, dodging a group of children playing marbles and shadow tag. As she passed, a gigantic white dog lazing in the shade perked up and let out a loud, amiable bark. "I'm sorry, Akamaru," she called, glancing back over her shoulder. "I'm late and—oh!"

Hinata gave a small cry as she collided with something and fell headlong onto the pavement. At least, she would have crashed onto the concrete if she had not taken Uchiha Sasuke along with her as she descended.

The young man grunted loudly as she landed on him, her package falling with a splash into a puddle.

Stunned, Hinata was unable to move, her hair cascading into his face in a silky wave; his skin tingling as her warm breath met his cheeks.

"Good morning," he said, trying as hard as possible to sound normal. _Normal. As if any red-blooded man could resemble being normal with her lying on top of him in the middle of the street._

"Ay!" A deep flush spread across her cheeks as the closeness sunk in; as she caught the gleam in his dark eyes. She quickly lifted herself off, a hot pounding in her chest. He sat up, brushing his dark shirt with one hand, the other running through his mussed hair.

His glance was as tangible as a touch on her crimson face, and Hinata tried to drown her embarrassment by searching for the package. "I-I'm sorry," she murmured, studying the ground.

"For what?" It didn't particularly sound like he cared, but—was she imagining things?—for the briefest moment, there was the smallest touch of amusement underneath his words.

"For—for being, that is for… f-falling on you. I s-should have been watching where I was going, and I…" Her explanation spilled out of her mouth, tripping and stumbling, quickly in her embarrassment, but he cut her off.

"Don't be." He placed a rough hand on her shoulder, and shrugged slightly. "It's fine. Is this what you're looking for?"

It wasn't really a question. Before her scrambled wits could decide what Sasuke was talking about, he thrust her soiled parcel into her arms, and helped her to her feet.

"T-thank you, Sasuke-kun," she said softly, not meeting his gaze.

He shrugged again, and put his hands in his pockets. She turned to leave, still blushing furiously.

"Ahm, Hinata."

"Yes?"

"Where were you off to in such a hurry, if I might ask?" He seemed--at least partially--interested. Was this the Sasuke that scowled and skulked and cared for no one but himself?

"Ah, t-the bookshop."

Sasuke nodded, with just the hint of a smile lurking in his deep eyes. "Can I walk with you?" A placid, but unmistakable, command.

Hinata was so startled she couldn't speak for several seconds. _Who are you and what have you done with Sasuke?_ "I… I guess so," she said slowly, resisting the urge to correct his grammar. She twisted a lock of hair between her fingertips as he came to her side, and, to her astonishment, offered to carry her bundle. Rather, he took the bundle from her in a calm, controlled way that convinced her that it actually was Sasuke. Her head swam with confused thoughts and explanations for his strange behavior._ Perhaps Kakashi-sensei finally put him on medication_.

-

Sasuke paused at the door of the bookshop, as if, an unprecedented event, he was unsure what to do. Hinata made no hesitation, quickly slipping inside. The warm, comforting smell that belonged only to Jiraiya's Emporium welcomed her, and her embarrassment gently melted away. A pang of regret poked her sharply in the ribs, chiding her for leaving Sasuke so rudely, without even a word of thanks for his stolid chivalry, but he had seemed determined that everyone in Konoha knew that he was escorting her, even awkwardly taking her arm as they passed Sakura and Ino, who stopped squabbling long enough to gape. Hinata wondered if he was trying intentionally to mortify her as punishment for knocking him down.

"Ah, good morning, Hinata!" The older man's voice came from behind a cluttered mahogany desk.

"Good morning, honya-san—how did you know it was me?" Hinata giggled as he came to his feet, spectacles falling off and long, tousled, gray hair hanging in his eyes.

"Well who else would be here so early in the morning?" Jiraiya pushed his glasses up his nose and studied her with the cat-like grin she knew to be his "I'm-interested-and-you-can't-distract-me" face. "Was that Uchiha Sasuke I heard with you?"

Hinata decided to change the subject. "I brought your book back," she said quickly, offering her package at him. On a normal occasion, she and Jiraiya would, in tacit camaraderie, avoid mentioning how overdue the return was, but today she was willing to pay a fee if only to divert. "I'm sorry it's so late."

He was still watching out the window.

"I would have brought it back earlier, but there was a passage I wanted Hanabi to read," she apologized again, just a tad louder. Jiraiya finally brought his attention back to his favorite customer, although the small smile remained tucked in the corner of his mouth in plain sight. "It's a little dirty," Hinata said, relieved as he took it gently from her delicate fingers and unwrapped it, bringing out the precious manuscript.

"Did you like it?" Jiraiya asked, tucking the book back in its home, nestled snugly in one of the many shelves lining the walls.

Hinata's entire face lit up with a wide smile. "Like it? It was enchanting! The characters were so real I could see them; every page was alive with vibrant colors, and--" Hinata stopped at a soft chuckle from her companion. "Yes, I l-liked it very much," she whispered, blushing.

The bookseller nodded, laughing to himself at her discomfiture.

"D-do you have any new ones? B-books, I mean." _Gracious, hadn't she felt enough embarrassment for one day yet?_

Jiraiya shook his head. "Not since yesterday." At her apparent disappointment, he added, grinning cannily, "There's always the newest installment in the Icha Icha series."

She started. "No, thank you, honya-san!" Her decline felt harsher than she had intended. "Arigato, but no," she murmured, trying not to recall Naruto's vivid descriptions of the novels. Jiraiya nodded, unperturbed, but Hinata could easily read his look: _"You don't know what you're missing…"_

"I don't need a new one anyway," she said, lingering for a moment before wandering reluctantly back from the shelves, the marvelous gathering of unread stories to the door and the world of humdrum cares and groceries. "Ja-ne."

"Hinata," Jiraiya called as her fingers met the smooth wood paneling of the door. He fumbled in his shirt for a moment, and then brought out a small parcel, much like the one he had taken from her only a few minutes earlier. He pressed it into her hands with a wry smile. "I know it's not much, but it's your birthday and--"

"My birthday?" Hinata murmured as he propelled her through the door. _What is going on today? _

She studied the package, and tentatively slid the hemp tie off the wrapping. A velvety, crimson dust-jacket peeked out from the crinkly brown paper, teasing her with a plethora of anticipations, and she pulled the rest of the covering aside.

"Oh!" Hinata gasped. _My favorite!_ _Arigato, Jiraiya-san. Thank you so much!_

**A/N:** The ending? Corny? No…

Well, I have to start somewhere. Continuation should be up soon. I'm trying to decide for sure if Hanabi will be the Maurice-ish character, or if I should take a completely different angle on this. Hmmm… Anyways, please review!

IndigoSkye


	3. Ramen

**A/N:** I know. It's been how long since I updated, and all I have is a crap chapter? . Let's just say I've been ridiculously busy, and leave it at that. But I'm not abandoning this puppy yet. This one is Sasuke-centric, and I apologize to any Ino or Sakura fans: they are incredibly two-dimensional as characters in this chapter, much like the silly girls in the movie _Beauty and the Beast_. I have trouble writing Ino for some reason.

Thanks so much for the reviews and faving!

Here it is:

Sasuke found Naruto at his usual haunt, stuffing as much ramen into his face as he could pay for: Ichiraku's newest special was "Three Bowls For The Price of One" on days beginning with the letter "t," and not a Tuesday went by without a visit from his best customer. Sasuke knew that if Naruto ever figured out what letter Thursday started with, the Ramen Master would be eaten out of business.

"Oi, Sasuke!" Naruto mumbled through a mouthful of noodles, and Sasuke had to avert his eyes as some of the food spilled out onto the counter. Ayame gave Naruto an evil look and began cleaning the counter for the third time that morning. "Sit down," the fox-boy ordered, indicating the seat beside him with a slimy chopstick.

"What can I get for you, Uchiha-san?" Ayame asked, a coy smile gracing her lips. Sasuke felt a shudder run down his spine. _Her, too?_ He tried to estimate how old she was as she cocked an eyebrow at him, still grinning.

"Nothing, thanks," he said flatly. _This is just getting ridiculous. _

Ayame moved away, shoulders slumped, and began wiping another section of the bar. Sasuke relaxed a bit, until he heard two familiar voices approaching, arguing as always. He cursed under his breath and wondered how long he could hide behind the counter.

"Sasuke-kun!"

_Crap._

Sasuke braced himself for the tight embrace and the helpless looks of adoration; the fawning and pawing and...

Instead, he felt a sharp smack on the back of his head. _What?_

"Sasuke-kun! What were you doing, prancing through Konoha with that Hyuuga girl?" Ino's shrill tone was painfully loud, and he put a hand to his ear.

Naruto stopped eating and started paying attention. He tried not to burst out laughing as Sakura and Ino took turns swatting his companion. Then, they began arguing again and commenced belting each other. As the girls stalked off, Naruto let out a chuckle. Sasuke turned to stare at him, rubbing his cheekbone gingerly.

"What's so funny?" Sasuke's dark eyes were quizzical, not angry, and Naruto knew he was in no danger.

"You just took a beating for Hinata!" He shook his head, still snickering. His chopsticks scraped at the bottom of the bowl, and he waved his hand at Ayame for a refill.

"It was hardly a beating," Sasuke snorted.

"But… for Hina-chan!" Naruto regarded Sasuke incredulously as Ayame shoved another bowl in his direction.

"Well?"

"Well, you can't be serious about _her_, can you?"

Sasuke's trademark scowl returned at Naruto's derisive tone. "What's wrong with Hyuuga-sama?" he snapped, sending a smoldering glare at the blonde.

"Nothing! Nothing. It's just… I mean, she's--"

"The most beautiful girl in Konoha. Not to mention the heiress to the highest branch of the Hyuuga clan." _And the only one in this shoddy old village who deserves a man of my prowess and bloodline._

Naruto gaped at him for several moments, forgetting his ramen long enough for Ayame to sneak it away.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Sasuke stood, sliding a bill at him across the counter.

"Cha!" Naruto grasped at the money, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"There's another bowl of ramen, and don't forget to tip Ayame this time."

_Fool._

**A/N: **Yes, Sasuke is an arrogant toad, isn't he? He fits the part frighteningly well. And Naru-chan, my apologies, but who else was going to be Le Fou? Kakashi? Ayame is incredibly OOC, I know, but I had fun messing with her, and I wish she was more like this in the anime.


	4. Demons

**A/N:** I am so excited! 11 reviews and only two real chapters? Wow!! Thank you so much to my faithful reviewers and favers. You fill my soul with warm squishies 

**Animefreak62294:** Thanks for pointing that out! I'm glad you like it, and you made a great point: chan is traditionally used for girls, and kun for boys, but I did some searching on Wikipedia for Japanese honorifics, and I read that chan can be used for males if the person has known them since childhood, which Hinata has in this story. Or, one could say that she was so flustered she addressed him incorrectly. ;)

**Deadlydoodlebug**: Thanks for all the love:D I hope that this chapter is a bit more substantial, and I'm so happy you are enjoying it!

**Suzume1414**:  I hope so. It really has been pretty Sasuke and Hinata-centric so far, and this is a GaaHina after all. Our favorite psychopath should show up soon!

**PaintedAngelWings**: Thank you so much! I'm a pretty new Narutard, so I'm trying to write them well, and Naruto by far is the most fun to write. XD That was my favorite part as well.

**Mysterygal02**: Thanks for all the reviews! Glad you like it!

**AuroraStarPhoenix**: Your advice was very helpful, and I'm happy that you look forward to more! I've decided on a mixture between the Disney version and several more classical variations.

**Starchip13:**  Here's another update!

"Hinata!" Hanabi shook her head in aggravation. "I'll be fine, would you stop worrying?!"

Hinata winced, trying to stop twiddling her fingers; she knew Hanabi hated her nervous habits. "I-I'm sorry, Hana-chan," she murmured, willing her hands to be still.

Hanabi considered her with a strange look. "Hinata," she said gently, squeezing her older sister's hand. "You shouldn't be scared of me. I care about you; I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be so timid all the time!"

"I'll try, Hana-ch--"

"Hanabi." The girl pulled Hinata into a crushing hug, and then returned to her packing.

Hinata watched her silently, embarrassed. She had always been ill at ease around their stern, perfectionist father, and her relationship with Hanabi was difficult to explain. There was no doubt in her mind that she adored her sister: Hanabi was strong, but not harsh, kind, yet firm, and her sense of humor had made many rainy days more enjoyable. At times, Hinata envied Hanabi's confidence, but in truth, she knew that she appreciated her sister's care of her. After Hiashi's death, Hanabi had slipped comfortably into the role of caretaker, watching out for her in ways that their father had never thought of doing. Hinata had come to love the time they shared over dinner each night after Hanabi returned from running errands for Godaime-sama. It had been surprising at first to know that someone actually wanted to know how her day was, after her father's cold distance and dismissal.

And yet, Hinata was nervous. After receiving Hanabi's warm, unconditional acceptance, she was desperate not to lose it again, desperate to prove that she was worthy of such a sister, and of such a sister's love. How she wished that there was something she could do to deserve it!

There was a knock at the door, and before Hanabi could move, Hinata whirled and ran to answer. _She's too busy to bother with visitors._ She tentatively peeked out the eyehole, and then exhaled in relief. "It's only Kiba-kun," she called back to her sister, opening the door for her friend. Inuzuka Kiba stepped inside, neglecting yet again to wipe his muddy feet before ushering himself to the den. Hinata made a mental note of the tracks, and hurried to his side, silently praying he wouldn't break something this time.

"Hanabi! I'm here, whenever you're ready." Kiba's booming voice filled the house, causing his companion to jump slightly. "Eh, Hinata? You okay? You seem tense." She shrugged, and he smiled knowingly. "Nervous about her first mission." It wasn't a question; Kiba knew her well enough to no longer have to make guesses about what she was thinking.

"I believe that Hanabi will be c-capable of completing her assignment with n-no difficulty."

Kiba guffawed. "Liar! You're scared stiff."

"Kiba-kun!" Hinata's mortification was evident, and Kiba knew he should take a hint and leave her alone.

But Kiba rarely took hints.

"With good cause," he said gravely, leaning closer with a conspiratorial air. "I mean, the forest she'll travel through being haunted and all."

Hinata's pale eyes widened, and her expression was enough to goad him on. "You didn't know?" Kiba clapped a hand to his face in surprise. "Well, never mind then. It's probably just old stories, anyhow." He didn't need to look at her to know that she had swallowed the bait, hook and all.

"W-what stories, Kiba?" Her voice was openly shaky now, and he could almost smell her growing apprehension.

"Yah, it's nothing." He paused for dramatic effect, drawing it out as long as he dared. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you, Hina?"

She inhaled sharply, and grabbed at his arm. "G-ghosts?"

"I shouldn't tell you this, but legend has it that there is a horrible monster dwelling in a hidden castle somewhere deep within the forest. He is not truly a man, nor is he a beast, but a demon with legions of the dead at his command. Some say that--"

"Kiba!" Both started at Hanabi's shout, pulled from the magic of the story in an instant. "What nonsense are you telling her now?" To any onlookers, the sight of such a petite, frail-looking girl scolding the towering, brawny young man would have appeared utterly ridiculous, but although Kiba would have never admitted it, Hanabi could be absolutely terrifying when angered.

"I wasn't doing anything, Hana-chan!" he protested, taking an unconscious step backwards. She shot a bloodcurdling look in his direction as she went to Hinata, whose petrified expression had not changed since her sister had entered the room.

"Hina," Hanabi said, trying to sound soothing. "Kiba's just an idiot; he made it up to scare you." _Don't be so timid all the time! _At the thought of Hanabi's earlier words, Hinata straightened and put on a brave face.

"I'm f-fine," she murmured, trying to swallow the growing lump in her throat. _Kiba was making it up to scare me. _

For the remainder of the afternoon, Kiba and Hanabi made preparations for departure. Even though Hanabi was constantly reassuring her that she would only be gone a week, two at the most, Hinata noted that she was bringing enough to stay a month, stuffing as much as she could into a small backpack. At a cue from Hanabi, Kiba took Hinata aside and explained for the umpteenth time exactly what would occur: Tsunade-sama was sending Hanabi to the Land of Wind, where she was to exchange messages with the Kazekage and return after a brief stay in Sunagakure. Kiba was to take her as the border, and then he would turn back and she would continue through the forest that separated the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind. At his mention of the forest, Kiba chuckled nervously and glanced in Hanabi's direction. Thankfully, she was otherwise occupied.

-

As the two trudged off into the sunset, Hinata continued to wave, even after their silhouettes were beyond her sight. She forced herself not to used Byakugan to follow their progress a little further, and instead she started back homeward.

_Only a week_, she reminded herself. _Only a week or two_. The words followed her for the next few days, which she spent straightening the house before Hanabi's return, reading her precious book and avoiding Sasuke as best as she could: The young man followed her around every time she went on an errand or visited Kurenai, although she couldn't imagine why. His new interest in her was so hard to understand, since all his life he had completely ignored her. And when she got wind of the whispers circulating town, Hinata was dumbstruck. _Her?_ The villagers were crazy! Not with beautiful girls flinging themselves at them constantly, not with all the unmarried women (and some of the married ones) pining after his passionate dark eyes, admirable physique and sleek--

She dismissed all thoughts of him, concentrating instead of her beloved sister's homecoming. Hinata made up her mind to thank Hanabi fully for all her kindness, to let her know how important she really was as soon as she returned. She watched out the window each day, even when she knew that it was far too soon, imagining the girl's smiling face brightening up the empty house again. Kiba came home one night, and reported that everything had gone smoothly, and Hanabi believed that she might be home early.

_Only a week, maybe two._

Which was what made it all the more frightening when after a month, Hyuuga Hanabi was nowhere to be found.

**A/N:** Oh noes, Hanabi! I need to stop ruining these characters, but I really did not want to make her a second Hinata, and since she is barely in the show, I got to create a personality for her that fit how I wanted the story to go. I realize that the distance Hanabi is supposed to have covered in only a few days to reach Suna might have taken longer, but as I don't know how long it really would take, I estimated, failing miserably, I am sure. I made up the forest that separates Suna and Konoha for my own purposes, so no "theirz noe forrest their, reetard," please. (Although if there is a forest, you can say, "Their iz a forrest their, retard.) ;)

Also, since the Kazekage can't be the Fourth, as Tsunade is already Hokage, and Gaara can't be Kazekage, I guess it will just be some random nameless person. (I would use Yashamaru, but he makes a great Mrs. Potts lol)


	5. Dreams

**A/N:** Another short one, to tide you over, I suppose. I really like this chapter, though, even if it is brief.

Enjoy, and once again, thanks for the reviews!!

_Hinata clung to him, weeping into his strong shoulder, her sorrow staining the dark red silk of his cloak. _

"_Shhh." His warm hand ran up and down her back comfortingly. "I'm here, everything will be fine. You'll see."_

"_B-but… she's gone. She's gone, forever maybe."_

"_Shhh." His deep voice was raspy, but tender, and soothing somehow; his arms about her, his breath against her tear-covered cheeks, his very presence was calming, and her sobs began to die away. "I'm here. Don't be afraid."_

"_W-who are you?" She tried to lift her face, to gaze into his, but he was fading away. "Wait! Please, don't leave me!"_

"_I'm here."_

"Hinata!"

She gasped as Kiba's cry brought her back into consciousness, the phantoms of sleep evaporating with the daylight.

"Hinata, are you all right?" The deep tone of the second voice was unfamiliar, and for a moment she thought—

_No._ It was all a dream. _He_ was all a dream.

"I-I'm fine, Sasuke-kun." Involuntarily, Hinata adjusted the thin nightgown at his intense stare. Her visitor snorted at this gesture, and she got the impression that if he really wanted to, he could… well, it was best not to dwell on that disturbing possibility. Vaguely she wondered if Sharingan's abilities were similar to Byakugan, and felt a cold chill at the thought.

"Fine?" Kiba sputtered. "They find you sprawled on the floor two nights ago, in shock according to Tsunade, and bring you in here. You've been out for the whole time, moaning and tossing in your sleep, up until the past few hours, that is, and--"

"Kiba." Sasuke cut him off. "If Hinata-sama says she's all right, then I would believe her." He got up and walked to the door, pausing long enough to call back to her, "I'm glad you're better, Hina-chan."

Hinata flushed at the inquiring look Kiba sent her way. _Did he call me 'sama'?_ She was silent for a moment, until a new notion came to her. "K-Kiba, who exactly found me and brought me to the hospital?"

A broad grin spread across his face, and he nodded towards the exit. "Well, I'll send Shizune in to see you, now that you're okay." At the door, he halted, glanced over his shoulder dramatically and said in a husky tone, "I'm glad you're better, Hina-chan."

Hinata watched him saunter off, snickering, and then flopped back on the bed, pulling the coverlet over her head. _Please, no._

-

_The darkness is unbearable, and the cold, wetness of the place is agonizing. She clutches at the rags of clothes hanging off her bony shoulders, trying to garner some warmth from the dirty scraps. _

_She opens her dry mouth to call out for the thousandth time, to beg for mercy and freedom again. Her cry dies in her coarse throat for the thousandth time, and instead a violent cough shakes her form, clawing at her chest. Blood stains the soiled floor, pooling at her bare feet, and she puts a hand up to wipe the redness from her cracked lips. Instead, another hack brings up more blood, dying her chilled fingers with crimson._

_How long she has been there, she does not know. She only knows that she cannot remain for very much longer._

_Time is running out._

_-_

The dreams have only gotten worse after her return to the empty house. The dark comforter is no longer there, and in his place there are visions of a woman, wasting away in a prison. Hanabi, at Death's threshold. Precious, gentle, loving Hanabi, dying alone surrounded by filth. Strong, courageous, protective Hanabi, vanishing into the night, with not a soul by her side.

Hinata's existence is that of living hell. She staggers through each day, keeping to herself as much as possible, trying to shut out all memories of her former companion, of her beloved sister, with thoughts of the mundane tasks—washing dishes, cleaning clothes, cooking meals that she only picks at, with a cold gnawing in her heart instead of her belly. At night, her futon beckons with lies of relief and peace, and instead tortures her with nightmares.

And every day, one thing pounds through her head, one sentence that is constant:

_Time is running out._


	6. Storm of Tears

**A/N:** Yes, I'm still alive, and still working on this. I sincerely apologize for the lengthy hiatus, but I got so stuck on this chapter and couldn't get it the way I liked it. First I was only going to have Hinata, running off into the distance, but I needed to bring some closure to Kiba's role in the story. After I added him, it didn't flow well enough and seemed strange to have some HinaKiba interaction without even getting Sasuke back into the picture, which would spell big trouble for me near the end. So I tried about six different ways to handle the essential Gaston/Belle interaction, and finally got it to where they were both in character almost the whole time and where it developed some of Hinata's issues as well. So I apologize, but I hope that this chapter is worth the wait.

And just to clarify, this is the FIRST GaaHina Beauty and The Beast. I found several more on Deviantart and , and I'm ticked, but what can you do? .

Anyhoo, here it is. (I promise, Gaara will show up in the next chapter. Promise, 'kay?)

"Hina, I'm sorry. There's nothing more I can do!" He _hated_ seeing her like this; he _hated _it. Helpless and frail, like a delicate flower that could so easily be crushed in his clumsy hands.

Her tears were falling faster, and faster. "P-please, Kiba-kun," she sobbed, her despair increasingly evident on her tormented face.

The search party had returned two days ago, with no sign of the missing girl. She had vanished, leaving no clue behind her, no memento for her heartbroken sister. All had expected the timid Hyuuga heiress to withdraw in mourning, or faint or something. But instead, she shocked them all with her firm belief that Hanabi was still out there, that Hanabi was still alive, whether they thought she was crazy or not.

Kiba had cursed himself constantly from the moment Hanabi's disappearance was announced, cursed himself a thousand times for telling her those stories. _Baka!_ He shouted at himself. _Fool! Fool!_

"I'm… I'm sorry, Hinata," he said again, taking her hand in resignation, wishing he could tell her everything would be all right.

"K-Kiba," she moaned, burying her face in the comforting cool of his leather jacket. Abruptly, he yearned to take her in his arms, then and there, run his coarse fingers through her soft hair and—and what? He was her brother figure, her protector, nothing more. He had come to terms with that many, many years ago, and so Inuzuka Kiba gently removed her hands from about him, propelling her smoothly from him, wishing that things didn't have to be that way. The hurt on her innocent face was enough to break his heart, but somehow he knew that it was the right thing.

"Hinata, I'm…" _I'm so sorry._

Hinata blindly began stumbling homeward. Her visit to Godaime-sama had proved fruitless, as the Hokage had told her, not unkindly, that she could do nothing more for Hanabi. She was gone. _Dead._ She knew they were all thinking that, knew it as strongly as she knew they were all wrong.

_Nothing!_ No one could do anything for her! Not Kurenai-sensei, not Tsunade-sama, not even her steadfast rock, Kiba—at the thought of Kiba's strange behavior, another tear streamed down her wet face.

_NO!_ Not another tear. What could tears do to help Hanabi? She could cry all day and night, and then what? Hanabi would die somewhere far away, and Hinata would still be crying, crying—was that all she was capable of? Crying and fainting? Sitting back while others did the work, while others fought and searched and made grand attempts at saving people?

NO. Hinata wanted more, much, much more than a domestic, quiet life of politeness and submission. For the first time, she realized that beneath all her shyness, a burning desire for adventure was buried, devouring her. This was, after all, why she wanted to become a shinobi in the first place. And now, her chance for heroism stared her in the face, practically screaming at her to do something for Kyuubi's sake! She—

"You're out late, Hinata-sama."

For the first time in her life, Hinata felt a surge of joy at the sound of Uchiha Sasuke's familiar baritone. _Here at last was someone who could help, if only he'd believe her!_

The young man stepped forward into the glow of a streetlight, one hand in the pocket of his customary dark pants.

"I've been looking for you." The typical apathy in his voice masked something else, something that sent a chill up her spine. Perhaps asking him wasn't the best idea after all. She was strongly reconsidering when an image of Hanabi passed through her mind.

"S-so have I." _Shoot! That wasn't what I wanted to say at all._

Sasuke's lower lip tilted upwards in pleased surprise, and he came towards her, encouraged. "T-that is, I have a f-favor to ask," she stammered as he closed the gap between them with long strides. It occurred to Hinata just how strong he was, especially compared to her. If he was going to make advances, she would be able to do little in opposition.

"So have I," he said, giving her words a new meaning with a new manner and a raised eyebrow. A finger stroked her cheek, tracing the sticky trails of her freshly-shed tears. "You've been crying." His face darkened at this discovery, his fingers continuing their exploration of her features. Hinata wanted to die of embarrassment on the spot. Sasuke was touching her face, taking in everything through his black eyes, standing so close she could almost feel his quick heartbeat in the stillness. She resisted the urge to faint or push him away, and managed a soft "My sister."

"Ah." He nodded, and Hinata felt suddenly that he truly understood. She had heard once that his entire clan had been slaughtered many years ago, although the story was sketchy in her memory. The very thought was emboldening.

"I… I know this sounds crazy, but-"

"You think she's still out there, alive."

"Hai." _How did he-_

"And you want me to help you find her."

"Hai." Her astonishment must have shown because he let out a hearty, utterly un-Sasuke chuckle.

"It doesn't take a genius to read your expressions, Hinata. It doesn't even take a fool. If Naruto paid attention half the time, he would have seen your crush on him years ago." He made a face at this, appearing to dislike even the mention of her feelings for anyone else, no matter how childish he deemed them.

Crimson humiliation spread across her cheeks. _Why must everyone tease me about that?_ Her 'crush' on Sasuke's boisterous sidekick had been short-lived, but ever since then, Kiba and Hanabi had never let her alone about it.

"But that was long ago, wasn't it." One thing about Sasuke was that he never asked questions. He merely stated things as he saw them, and he saw clearer than most. Naturally, he didn't wait for her to nod in agreement. "Now we come to my favor," he said, wearing a smile that was a queer mixture of what she guessed was longing, anticipated triumph and, surprisingly, a hint of awkwardness. "I, too, believe that Hanabi-san is alive, and, better yet, I have an idea as to where we may start looking for her."

"You do?" she gasped, so overwhelmed by this that she didn't really notice his arm slipping over her shoulder.

He shrugged slyly. "Well, it's a guess, but I'll guarantee it's better than whatever that Inuzuka had."

"Oh, thank you so much, Sasuke-kun!" Her honorific seemed to entertain him. "I mean, S-Sasuke."

"Don't thank me now! After all, we haven't found Hanabi yet, and you still haven't heard my side of the bargain."

_His side?_ The clammy feeling returned.

"I can help you rescue your sister if you would consider- that is, accept my… offer."

"Offer?" His face was too close, arm too snugly wrapped about her.

"You're not a fool, Hinata; surely you know where this is heading. I'm asking you to marry me." There was no dramatic pause, no romantic knee-dropping or pleading look of adoration in his ebony stare. Just cut-and-dry, level and factual, without a drop of emotion.

"W-what?" _Marry __**Sasuke**__?_ She had heard the rumors, and received many a hateful glance from his fanclub, but never had she imagined he was that serious about her.

Somehow encouraged by her shocked expression, he continued, beginning a prepared speech on how beneficial it would be to join their bloodlines, how practical the match was for both Uchiha and Hyuuga, and—

She couldn't hear him, couldn't listen to this another moment. He didn't want _her_; he merely wanted to restore his clan. She was a likely candidate, considering her impressive kekkei-genkai, and an heiress to boot. Hinata's heart sank: here she had dreams of adventure, of grand rescues, and he was asking her to trade all of that, her very freedom for a chance that she might preserve her sister's! It was unthinkable, unbelievable! She could never, never say—

"Well, Hinata?" The insufferable confidence in his look made something in the pit of her stomach tingle indignantly. For the first time in her life, Hinata actually considered street violence—the thought of giving him a Gentle Fist Attack to the throat was so tempting._ How could I ever believe this was a good idea,_ an inner being fumed. _He's just using Hanabi's peril as a tool to get what he wants! _"P-please," she begged, trying to slip out from underneath his arm. "C-can't we talk about this later?"

Sasuke put a hand out and caught her loose sleeve in his tight grip. "I need an answer," he commanded, with an attitude that suggested he needed to be taken seriously.

She attempted a response, but choked on the furious words that quivered on her tongue. The passion of her hatred for this man was astonishing, but she could not avoid it. How selfish he was, to care only for himself when Hanabi—

"Sasuke-" she pleaded, ashamed at her inability to fight back, to stop him from doing practically _anything_ to her if she refused him.

"Just say 'yes'!" The sudden vehemence of his order frightened her almost beyond sanity, and in a moment of terror, she struck out wildly, hoping to hit something vital. Then, she ran, clattering across the cold stone faster than her feet had ever carried her previously.

Urgency filled her entire body with speed—somehow she felt on fire to move, as if she could make up for every lost moment if she only hurried.

Shame bore heavily on her at the thought of time: had it taken her this long to make up her mind? If only it were she in Hanabi's stead—Hana-chan would have charged to her rescue the moment she knew of her distress.

_I'm coming, I'm trying! Please hold on, just a little longer!_

The light pack bounced up and down with each step, drumming against her back in a hurried rhythm. The sparse contents were the bare necessities: a water pouch would serve her parched mouth until she found her sister. The dark blue cloak was warmth, warmth that she could give Hanabi when she rescued her, but for now, its presence, folded away in the bottom of the bag, was comforting. As for the third item—well, how could she leave all of her treasured library at home? She might have fretted a long time over selection, but through some stroke of fate, she had discovered the gift from Jiraiya's Emporium, which had been completely neglected in all the chaos.

_Hold on, Hanabi! Hold on._


	7. Hope fading

**A/N:** Oh my word, this has been a long hiatus! In fact, I just assumed that my readers had all forgotten this lonely little story, just as I had. That is, until today when I opened my mailbox and found a lovely review from kitsune-chan1010 that convinced me to carry on once more. Bless you, m'dear—you sparked my dying creativity into action again.

I really like this chapter, especially the beginning descriptive section. Almost as much as I dislike the first few chapters, actually. But then, again, I always go through phases where I hate everything I've ever written/drawn/performed. It's an artist's curse.

Alas, I knew we must come to this point, but I never expected it would be so soon. Now comes the truth: In the Disney movie, one of my favorites and the main basis of this story, there are enchanted candlesticks, clocks, teapots, wardrobes, roses, feather dusters, spoons, plates, etc. As charming as this is in the film, I am trying to go a different direction with my version to make it slightly truer to the Naruto-verse. So, there will be **no talking candlesticks, clocks, teapots or wardrobes.** There will be a few characters that fit in Naruto-wise that will represent these characters, but none of them will be enchanted household items, and none of them will have hilarious French accents or Angela's Lansbury's lovely singing voice. Actually, I doubt that there will be any characters singing at all in my story.

However, I have some good news for any of you who are devoted to the movie and don't appreciate my straying from it: There is another GaaHina Beauty and The Beast that follows Disney's movie almost word for word, as far as I read, and Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and Cogsworth are all played by some of our favorite Naruto characters, and are actually written as a teapot, candlestick and clock. So if you're set on that, you can search for it, and I'm sure you'll find it. For myself, the thought of Temari as a kindly old teapot was enough to turn me off that idea for good, even though I gave up toying with it at the very beginning of developing this story.

Oh, and I almost forgot: there is a brief hint of a one-sided KibaHanabi at some point. I actually adore this pairing, though I'm not quite sure why, but I thought I'd warn my dear readers, just in case a few of them are allergic to crack pairings, which is highly unlikely as they _are_ reading a GaaHina fic.

-IndigoSkye

If ever there was a place that could be described as a manifestation of despair, it could only be the palace of the Tanuki. The darkness was not caused by the condition of the citadel itself: The furnishings were far from sparse—indeed, not an expense had been spared in decorating the immense rooms. Elaborate wall-hangings and masterfully crafted sculptures, paintings and candelabras left no corner without an exquisite, tasteful flair to it. Not a leak pervaded the high ceilings; no mold or dampness soaked the rich carpets, and if there were ever vermin foolish enough to venture inward, it was whispered that the monster who dwelt inside merely made use of them as an entrée.

No, it was the silent, brooding gloom of The Hidden Castle, as it had been christened rather unimaginatively years before, which could bring down even the highest of cheerful spirits. The tacit hopelessness that characterized not only the dwelling itself, but all who made their home there, ebbed solely from the Master who found refuge behind its walls.

And it was underneath this shadow that the bright soul of Hyuuga Hanabi had fallen.

For days and days, she had clung on to hope, though what was she hoping for she had never truly been certain. Perhaps it was rescue—she had briefly indulged in a fantasy of Kiba bursting into her dim prison cell, face glowing with determination, courage and- while she was still daydreaming- a deep, pure, tender and passionate affection. He would break the binding, chafing shackles off her ankles and wrists with his bare hands, pick her up in a sweeping motion, and carry her off into the sunset.

But as her food supply dwindled, along with the daily visits from the housekeeper- a tall, stern woman with eyes like cold, blunt jade and lips firmly set in an iron jaw- Hanabi's fantasies turned more practical. Not her beloved Kiba, but a group of Chuunins with tracking nin-dogs and windmill shurikens to do battle with the fiend that lurked somewhere upstairs.

The hours became longer and longer as hunger clawed at her insides, the pain filling her mind, drowning out thoughts of anything else. The nights were unbearable, too restless to sleep, too exhausted to move, while footsteps scraped on the ceiling above her, pacing endlessly until daybreak when the sound faded away, taking even that company from her.

Sometimes, she could overhear scattered conversations, the only glimpses into the life of her captors that she received. Much of their speech was muffled through the walls that surrounded her on almost every side, but as her sight dimmed and her mind fogged, she gained painful awareness and clarity of each sound.

There were two voices she knew better than the others. Both were deep and rough, as nearly all the voices were, but one had a distinctly feminine quality in her inflections. Hanabi gradually decided that it was the voice of the grim housekeeper who still stopped by her cell from time to time, though the woman never spoke to Hanabi during those visits. The other she had no face to place it with; only the name- "Kankuro," an inhospitably foreign one to her ears, unlike the friendly, familiar names of home. These two spoke often in hushed voices outside her cell, and sometimes she even caught herself mentioned in their discussions, though never by her name, which she was struggling to remember more and more these days.

"He's been more impatient recently." (Hanabi had come to learn that all inhabitants of the castle referred to their master as "he" or "him.") It was the woman (Kankuro sometimes referred to her as Tema-niichan, so the two must be related somehow).

"It's the whole business with the girl. I don't get it, Tema—it's crazy, even for him."

"I asked him last night; He says she's not the right one and some crap about 'another will come'. Hn."

"Baka!"

"Sh!" The tense note in Temari's voice sparked Hanabi's interest, and she began paying closer attention. "Keep it down! He's just a floor or so above us for the love of…"

Kankuro muttered something Hanabi couldn't catch. She strained against her bonds to get as near to the bars as possible, trying to hear Temari's response.

Then—"I don't get him, Tema. Fate dumps this pretty kid on his doorstep, begging for a place to stay, and what does the moron do? Offer her a room? Throw her a banquet with live entertainment? Propose? No. No! Because that would be too easy for Gaara the Great, Gaara the Powerful; Gaara the Magnificent Blockhead."

"Shut up!" she hissed, violently urgent. "Kankuro, I don't pretend to understand him, and I certainly don't trust Shukaku's 'guidance.' But I do know better than to question his judgment."

"Yeah, yeah," the invisible Kankuro replied sullenly. He exhaled before continuing on a whinier note. "But why did we get sucked into this? It's not as though we killed Yashamaru in a temper fit."

"No, but don't we hold some responsibility? For indulging his caprices, his temper; for making him who he is."

"I know." The bitterness in his voice was almost tangible. "I just… I want this to end! Not only for me, Tema, but for you. For all of us. When do we get to live normal lives outside this dungeon of a castle? I want to be free again, my own man with my own hopes and dreams to pursue, not bound in eternal servitude to my psycho jinchuuriki younger brother."

Temari sighed deeply, with more than just a hint of concurrence between Kankuro and her self. "Don't we all?" she said, acrimony surrounding her words like a coat of paint. He grunted in response. "But we've got to hold on, just a little while longer."

How long ago that conversation took place, Hanabi was unsure. Her sense of time had been warped by the lengthy absence of substantial meals and the raging fever that distorted her consciousness.

But for some reason, the dialogue kept replaying in her mind. _"He says she's not the right one and some crap about 'another will come'."_

_Another will come._

And so the dim spark of hope was rekindled, the faint flicker that kept her hanging on to life, even as her senses deteriorated and the shadows consumed her.

_Another will come._

Hinata.

In the delusions of her fever, Hanabi tosses in and out of dreams, the line between waking and sleeping blurred by her misty perception of reality. Sometimes she dreams of home, and waking to the morning sunshine, something she has almost forgotten. Other times, her mind wanders through the palace while her body lies prostrate in the cell. But then, as the dank breath of death tickles her skin, hovering over her like a waiting carrion bird, there comes a different dream, beautiful and yet terrible, hoping and despairing all at once.

"_Hello? Is anyone there? P-please, I'm looking for my sister!"_

"_H-Hinata? Is that you?" Her voice is unaccustomed to speaking, and sounds as though she is being strangled. Her tongue and lips are unsure as to how they form words; it has been so long…_

"_Hanabi!" Her eyes can barely open, but through tiny slits of vision, she makes out the form of her beloved sister. _

"_How did you find me?" Soft, warm hands find her own and clasp them through the bars—perhaps this is not a dream after all._

"_Oh!" -A sharp gasp-"Your hands are like ice! We have to get you out of here." _

"_Hina, you must leave this place." Through the flood of joy at her sister's presence, something reminds Hanabi that danger is still nearby, a danger she would not wish on Hinata._

"_Who's done this to you?" Hinata quivers with rage and pain as she notices for the first time the protruding bones, the blood on her dry, parched skin, the dimness in her sunken eyes._

"_There's no time to explain." She hacks suddenly, and blood spills from her lips to the floor. "You must go, now!" Speaking is pure agony, but somehow she has to warn Hinata about him!_

"_I won't leave you!" The adamancy in her declaration is surprising: who knew onii-chan had such hidden strength? But as much as Hanabi longs to go with her, to leave this place, she knows she is too weak and ill. _

_An abrupt chill passes from the comforting hands to her frail, cold ones. "Who's there?" Hinata calls, the old fear returning to her voice. "I know someone's there; who are you?"_

"_The master of this castle." The harsh, cavernous tone is strange and frightening to Hinata, but to the prisoner, who knows it well, the fear is far greater._

"_Then, you're the one responsible for this! Please, release my sister at once."_

"_She entered my domain uninvited and now, she'll suffer the consequences." The source of the voice is still hidden, lurking in the shadows somewhere nearby._

"_But she's dying!" Hinata pleads, tears welling in her colorless eyes._

"_Then she should not have trespassed here." Impassive and unfeeling, the voice sounds menacingly closer._

"_Please, I'll do anything," she says, barely a whisper. _

"_There's nothing you can do." The cold dismissal echoes in the gloom, crueler than any physical strike to the face or kick in the ribs. It gobbles up Hanabi's rising hopes, licks the bones clean, and leaves only a sickly void in their place._

_But then, a current of determination comes coursing into her body, flowing from Hinata's hands- clammy with sweat and fright but warm once more- before her sister gently pulls her fingers free. Blurry and distant, Hinata's shadowy form slowly straightens, and turns to face the voice, or at least, her best guess as to its location. Slender shoulders heave with a deep inward breath, back stiffens, and hands that shake like the Earth in Armageddon clench into fists that shake like the Earth in Armageddon, but are fists all the same. _

_Hanabi sees, through her blindness, the desperate last stand of courage that throws her sister's chin forward, steels her jaw line and carries her brave words through the darkness, with not a quaver of fear left to shame them._

"_Take me instead."_


	8. Hime

_What?_

The shape in the shadows was unaccustomed to and intolerant of the emotion of surprise, or, for that matter, emotions in general. His wakeful, watching eyes saw all and knew all; did their best to blot out the possibility of ever experiencing that highly unpleasant sensation: the dark astonishment and blankness of mind that meant _surprise_ to Subaku no Gaara. Surprise was when an opponent proved to be cleverer than estimated, and began to present a problem. Surprise was when he found a mouse (sometimes alive, others rotting) in his stew—contrary to popular belief, he actually did not dine on small rodents—and had to think up ways of punishing that worthless woman he called "housekeeper." (He had no familial attachments to either of his supposed "siblings," and sincerely doubted the possibility of actual blood relations between them.)

But there it was yet again: the prickly tingling along his spine and twisting chill in his stomach that meant things were not turning out as he had anticipated.

_But how could he have expected this?_ That trembling thing in the corner, heart-shaped face paler than her huge eyes-- barely able to speak only a moment ago—planted defiantly in front of the cell: head held high, jaw set firmly and face twisted in the contortions of war between terror and determination?

The word "inconceivable" came to mind.

He heard a throaty noise that he took to be his own voice, and wondered fiercely if he sounded nearly as flabbergasted as he felt.

Apparently, his guttural croaks conveyed some sort of discernable meaning, because the girl tensed, and looked even more desperate to stay firm.

"T-t-take me instead," she repeated, her former quake returning, much to her evident chagrin.

"You…you would do that? Would—take her place?" _Gad, but his head ached!_ He heard his words stumble stupidly out of his mouth like drunken men from a bar, and realized that he was losing potential-threat points, and fast.

"**If** I did, w-would you let her go?" She backed up, pressing her spine against the bars as if to remind herself why she was offering herself as a sacrifice to some unknown terror.

Before Gaara could catch himself, the answer echoed through the gloomy chamber. "Yes!" _No! What was he thinking? _Or was he not thinking at all? But the recovery came to him quickly enough, albeit not the speed he was accustomed to. "But… but you must promise to stay here… FOREVER." _There, that would do nicely!_

Now he could taste the entirety of her terror, and it was all the sustenance he needed. "Forever?" she moaned, the façade of resolve now completely gone, her voice nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

"Forever." _Oh, how he loved that look: Defeat and pain and blinding, raging horror, eating away at the mind all at once._ "Or she dies in that dungeon."

Bland, unearthly eyes blinked damply, splashing sorrowful rain onto the filthy stone floor in plump, wet drops. The creature perishing somewhere in the darkness of the festering cell uttered several hoarse, unintelligible moans that the trembling figure must have taken as words, for the expression of hopeless courage returned. His prisoner called out again in the broken tones of one resigned to fate, this time pristine and fathomable in one frenzied final attempt to convey her vital message: "Hinata! Please don't do this. He's—he's a monster!" Then, last strength depleted, the voice died away into wretched silence.

_Hinata? A Leaf village name if he'd ever heard one before._ "Make your choice," he hissed, patience completely spent with this weak, ridiculous excuse for a being and her expiring companion—he had seen very little of his captive, but he sensed a strong relational tie between them that hinted at sisters. _Cousins at the least._ "Kankuro," he instructed the noiseless shape hulking on the staircase below, "prepare a transport for our guest."

"Wait!"

He froze.

"You have my word." The words, heavy-laden with pain and selfless love, rang triumphantly in the musty, moldy air.

_Unthinkable. _

"Done."

The grief-stricken howl of his former captive as Kankuro noiselessly lifted her almost-lifeless frame from its nest in the festering straw stabbed at Gaara's taut nerves, and Shukaku clawed at his mind in frustrated anguish.

"Hinata!" the corpse kept screeching. "HINATA!"

"End those hideous sounds, maggot, or I'll lose patience and forget my bargain." Shukaku strained, tugged, foamed at the mouth inside him, and the last words of his phrase burst from his throat in a gurgling snarl.

"Hanabi, please," the sacrificial lamb pleaded, miserably huddled out of sight in some dank corner of the prison.

"Yes, _please_, Hanabi," Gaara growled, massaging one pounding temple. "Kankuro, if that carcass won't be muzzled, break her neck."

"No!" his newest victim mewled in alarm. "Hanabi!"

At last, the cries died away, along with Kankuro's heavy trod on the stairs.

Gaara sighed, deeply relieved. He peered into the dungeon, trying to locate his prisoner in the empty darkness. It was more difficult than he'd thought, especially considering her alabaster complexion and luminous eyes, but perhaps her pure white light had been snuffed out, engulfed by the ravenous shadows. He had almost reached the threshold of positive assurance that she had just melted away like fresh snow in the black fires of hell when his searching gaze met the dismal glow of her repulsively large orbs, pale with fear and gloom.

"Stop cringing in the shade like a dog afraid of beating and come here," he told her, sickened at her trembling lips—so soft and round that they almost made him ill—and shaking hands—delicately formed and beautiful, traits that meant only weakness and thus abhorrence for the Demon of the Sand. "I'm not going to eat you."

Her wariness and jumpy, reluctant movements told him clearly that she was convinced otherwise, but finally she willed herself to cower a little closer to his dim outline.

"Stand, if you're capable of following orders." She stupidly complied, ghostly fingers playing robotically with a few spidery threads of glossy blue-black hair. _Probably spends __**all**__ her time taking care of her hair and those heiress' hands—wouldn't be surprised if she's never worked a day in her life. This must have been __quite__ the exertion for her, poor little pampered princess. _Gaara smirked at the sarcastic voice in his mind, although whether it was Shukaku talking or just his frayed nerves he was unsure.

"You're far from home, aren't you, hime? Lost your way in my forest, and now you're all alone with the beast of legend, with no one to scream your name or come to _your_ rescue."

"Hanabi would n-never abandon me," she whimpered into her palms.

"Oh? Do you honestly think she would ever return to this place now that she's escaped? No, my pet—she's long gone."

"S-she will tell K-Kiba and S-Sasuke," she insisted, trying to convince herself with words of faintest hope. "They _will_ come for me, you'll see. You'll see…"

"So your lovers will charge into the dragon's lair to save the fair damsel from his filthy, ravaging claws? No, hime, your protectors will _never_ find this castle in these woods; they're _enchanted_, you know. As is your dearest Hanabi: I can take her memory and bewilder her mind, so that she herself will forget this hellhole and her sojourn here, and that she ever had a sister, now imprisoned by the Tanuki Prince." The wicked delight was intoxicating, but not nearly as thrilling as the sob that burst, despairing and desolate, from her swan-like throat.

"No," she wept, crumpling at his feet.

"Gaara! Leave that poor wretch alone; haven't you done enough already?" The voice of his detested housekeeper extinguished the tingling sense of exhilarant pleasure he had only begun to taste.

"What's the matter, Temari?" He turned only his head to regard her, keeping his back resolutely turned. _Why waste energy being polite to a harpy?_ "Gone soft?"

Temari's eyes hardened, and she spoke through her teeth. "Like _hell_ I have. But it's grotesque to see you toy with human beings as though they were dumb animals or your playthings. Look at that girl: you've got her so paralyzed with fear, she wouldn't know her own name if you called her by it, or her own face, if she was to see it in a mirror. She'd most likely take it for a ghost, or some demented spirit like the one that's been plaguing her."

He shrugged.

"Gaara." Temari seized his shoulder in vice-like fingers and pulled him away from the heap wallowing in sorrow on the stones below. "Has it not occurred to you at all who this girl might be? You said that the last one--"

"I know what I said," he growled, escaping her grip with a wrench of his arm. "But that limp little rag-doll is no more my saving grace than her screeching precedent; it takes a strong nin to break a curse seal, stronger than any this world has seen before, and no sniveling puddle of a female could be possibly be mistaken for such. Look at her, Temari, and tell me that she's capable of any jutsus beyond genin level!"

She followed his accusing gesture, and doubtfully studied the miserable Hinata. "I'm not acting as though I can interpret the seer's words, Gaara. But since he's not _here_ anymore…" Temari trailed off at a warning from his dangerous eyes, and took a deep breath. "How many opportunities do you think you're getting?"

She moved away, shaking her head as she limped to the stairway.

Gaara stared at the frail, heaving shoulders, uncertainty writhing in his chest.

"Temari," he called slowly, split mentally even as the words floated down the stairs. "Might we have a… a spare chamber for our"—here he almost gagged on the cordial word—"guest?" Everything within him protested so violently he thought he might simply be rent in two by perturbed indecision.

The housekeeper paused, nodding as though she didn't trust her own hearing, before hurriedly disappearing around a corner.

Hinata's outcry stopped, or at least subsided to exhausted sniffles. "S-spare chamber?" she hiccupped, dumbfounded.

"If you want to stay here, I can--"

"No!" she gasped, struggling to her feet.

"Good." Beckoning for her to follow, Gaara took up one of the sputtering tapers from an intricate sconce in the stairwell and ran his free hand along the rough walls until his fingers discovered the loose stone.

Hinata jumped backward with a yelp when the grimy panel slid aside to display an elegant marble hallway, glimmering in the flickering candlelight.

"My palace is larger than you can imagine, and 'labyrinthine' is far too simple a word to fully capture the maze-like properties of its architecture. If you ever venture out into its passages without one of its inhabitants, you may abandon all hope of ever being discovered living again: often enough, a servant strays too far from his quarters, and is swallowed up forever by a remote, twisting tunnel somewhere in the castle's underbelly. Do you understand?"

She gulped and tried to make her shivering body even smaller as to somehow avoid his terrifying gaze.

"Do you _understand_?"

"H-Hai!" she said, as loudly as her quivering voice would allow.

"That's better," Gaara sneered. "I won't have my 'company' destroyed by my home's savage hospitalities."

Hinata drew in a long gust of breath, ragged with the sobs now dry in her chest.

Not really sure what was expected on a tour of a palace of a prison, Gaara cleared his throat and continued. "I'd also advise you not to expect any coddling or demonstrative treatment;"—_as if she could after the welcome he'd given her—_"we none of us here are accustomed to either giving or receiving it."

She nodded miserably, examining the cracked sandstone floors merely to shield herself from an unseen horrible, ethereal stare that so coldly swept over her frame and left invisible burns wherever it touched her.

"My housekeeper Temari will be your primary keeper, so she'll be obligated to comply with your every wish—within the bounds of reason, of course." A misshapen smirk streaked across his jaw: _Temari wanted her to stay—all right, she'll stay, and Temari can live at this spoiled little queen's beck and call._ "If she fails to satisfy your demands, it is your responsibility to let me know; I won't have her deal with you as rudely as she does the rest of us… Stop!"

Gaara snatched her feeble wrist and twisted, throwing her birdlike arm behind her back in an expert hold. Sharp cries sang shrilly through the still corridor, and he released her to cover his protesting ears. "I'll have _none_ of that," he rumbled fiercely. "Where did you think you would run, fool?"

She moaned, and cradled the flimsy limb gingerly. _ANYWHERE, to get away from that awful hoarse voice and dark shape._ Tears threatened from under her lids, but she was too weary to even release the floodgates of despair.

"Get up."

_I can't! I CAN'T._

"Fine."

Those cruel, strong talons gripped her again and dragged her to her feet.

From that point on, nothing existed in her thoughts any clearer than the vague sensations of fear, soul-crushing agony, dizzy pain and the dreadful, relentless rasping of her guide and captor. The numb, conscious part of her mind was on constant watch for a glimpse of his face in the blurry torchlight, but her vigil went unrewarded: the monster-man was uncannily adept at concealing his features in whatever darkness could be exploited, even when the lights around them were brightest. His droning speech stabbed her sore brain again and again until nothing made sense or mattered.

At last, the torture ended. The blinding sensation of whirling candlelight was snuffed out by the opening of a door and the cool dark of a room that the voice told her was now her home. _Home._ What a bitter, distasteful word.

"I'll have Kankuro bring your things up from the dungeon," Gaara began, uncomfortable at the still, still form sprawled on the immense, lavish bed.

She made no response more than a dismal whimper into the rich comforter's tender embrace.

"If—if you're hungry, Temari can bring you something to eat."

A fatigued sigh, expressing more hopeless heartbreak than Gaara had ever encountered previously, was his only answer.

"You're welcome," he said, utterly confused and aggravated with himself, and slammed the door vehemently.

Unbeknownst to Hinata, he waited outside the bedroom, ear to the wall, until her last sobs died away and she at last slipped off into frenetic dreams.

_Good night then._

-

"_Hinata! Please don't do this. He's—he's a monster!"_

Hinata sat up in a clammy sweat, clutching at the silk sheets. She was still for a moment, trying to calm her raging heartbeat as Hanabi's beseeching, deathly face filled the eye of imagination; as Hanabi's wretched, croaking plea resounded through her head. _It was just a nightmare. _She slowly lowered herself back onto the soft pillows, and actually lay there a few peaceful moments before it struck her. _Soft… pillows?_ It all crashed onto her then, pressing in her chest; the stabbing pain that was memory.

_I left them all. I let them all go: Kiba, Naruto, Hanabi—_at the thought of Hanabi, the tears came, hot and painful. The dream was real; she was living this nightmare. Sobs wracked her frail chest and she began to cough violently. _A drink,_ she thought desperately, writhing free from the tangled bedclothes. Fumbling through the quiet dark, she found her way to the door.

Hinata groped for the knob, and, discovering it, slipped out of the room into the tranquil hallway, the groan of the door hinges and the shuffling of her bare feet in the thick carpets the only sounds in the silent castle. The candlelight added to the eerie atmosphere of the place, and as she made her way down the corridor, she couldn't shake the haunting feeling of enchantment. The environment was… _stagnant_ with it. She felt proud of herself for using a new word from her book, although she wasn't quite sure if she had employed it correctly.

The stillness of the castle was unnerving, and Hinata found herself wishing to be in the bedroom again. Her cough had subsided, and although her throat was dry the need for refreshment was not as urgent. But another part of her was fascinated by her surroundings, and it drew her on, deeper and deeper into the dark entryways and maze-like passages and—

She had no idea where she was. She was far into the castle's recesses, much farther than she had ever been before. Nothing was familiar. The shadows on the walls seemed to grow and change, reminding her of Shikamaru Nara's shadow-possession jutsu, but this thought of home was hardly comforting. She whirled, glancing in every direction, fighting back panic and trying to keep her head. _Stay calm; there has to be a way back._ One corridor looked like another, and Hinata quickly chose one, attempting to convince herself that she had seen that tapestry on the wall previously.

The passageway seemed different than the others, or was it merely her imagination? The thick spread of velvety carpet was gone, and in its place, cold stone floors. There were fewer paintings, and the art hung on these walls was surreal and frightening, images of tortured figures and grotesque demons. Hinata shivered, although she wasn't sure if it was from fear or the draft that toyed with the edges of a nearby drapery.

A draft! Hinata paused in a quandary. There had been no draft in the hallway that led back to her room; there had been not the slightest sigh of fresh air in any of the stale hallways she had traversed that night. She turned on her heel, ready to hurry back the way she came, when all of the candles extinguished simultaneously.

If the darkness of the castle had been ominous before, Hinata couldn't remember. In her blindness, she couldn't even recall what light was like, and her energy was too spent from emotional turmoil and the long journey to activate Byakugan. She stumbled along as quickly as she dared; running her hand along the walls and dreading what she might find. With every step, sheer panic drummed in her mind, faster than her own racing heartbeat and the slap of her bare feet against the smooth floors. Suddenly, her hand collided with something familiar: the twisting shape of a doorknob.

Hinata gave a small cry of relief as her terror melted away, already feeling foolish for being afraid. By some miracle, she had found her room again. "Hinata," she chided herself, imitating Hanabi's firm tone, "you're too jittery." She grasped the handle and pushed, the door complying easily in a noiseless motion.

There he stood.

Hinata knew she had made a mistake even before the door opened all the way; how could it have been her room when she well understood that it was on the other side of the castle? She gasped as he whirled to face her, his pale green—or blue?-- eyes dark with emotion. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his face twisted in anguish. However, his look changed as he saw the tenderness radiating from her.

"What's w-wrong?" she whispered, as the mournful light from a waning moon betrayed a shimmering tear on his stony cheek. Mind elsewhere, her feet guided her forward, and she realized that the room was really a small balcony overlooking the commons of the palace. Gaara's hand quickly moved to his face, wiping the telltale sign of sorrow away.

"Nothing."

They were silent for several moments, as she studied him with a new understanding growing in her mind. _He does feel_.

"What are you staring at?" His voice warned that she was entering dangerous territory, and she snapped back into focus, trying to think of an answer.

"That mark--" Hinata said finally. She tentatively reached up to touch his kanji but he pushed her hand away. "W-what does it mean?" she whispered.

Gaara turned away from her, gazing out over the beautiful grounds below. "It means _love_," he said slowly, turning the word in his mouth as if tasting it. His tone indicated that it was bitter to him.

"Who--" she began again.

"I did."

"Oh." Hinata stepped back in confusion, considering this strange man—no, this strange beast, before her.

He sighed heavily, although she couldn't tell if he was exasperated or sorrowful. "I placed it there a long time ago as a symbol. To indicate my understanding that not only am I loved by no one, but I love no one as well."

Hinata felt a gasp fly from her lips. "That's—that's so sad!" she said, forgetting her timidity as her heart wrenched for him. _Just like a character in a book,_ she thought, recalling the novel on her bedside table: her last trace of home.

He laughed, a harsh, frightening sound, just like everything else about him. "Do you pity me?" he murmured, facing her with mingled wonder and scorn.

But her bravery had abandoned her yet again, in this strange, unearthly world so far removed from all she loved. She was silent, staring at her bare toes until her eyes watered.

"I'll take you back to your room."

**A/N:** Yes, yes, it's been a long time. I appreciate all the faves and reviews, and I'll try to have more up soon. I get out of school in a short time, so we'll see. -

… Temari's not the bubbly sweetheart of a Mrs. Potts we all remember, is she? ;) I think I might actually prefer it this way.


	9. Tea

**A/N**: I'm back, I'm alive, I'm still writing. Thanks to those of you still watching this story. Let's hope I can finally finish it…

The hollow knocking bore into Hinata's uneasy sleep, until at last consciousness came seeping back, flooding her mind with ugly reality. Her lids lifted, heavy and sore, and she mumbled, "Come in," before she actively registered that the raps were at the door to her bedroom—furthermore, that the door was locked. Groggy memory suggested that she must have locked herself in last night, or early this morning, after her eerie tour of the castle.

With a slight shift of the tongue her answer changed to, "Coming," as she stumbled to unfasten the bolt. It slid back, clanking, and the door abruptly swung open, revealing a sour-faced woman with unkempt hair and blank green-gray eyes.

"The master has sent you breakfast." Her voice was flat and hard, like her precise, wooden features. Before Hinata had a moment to decline the woman stepped inside, a clattering cart with steaming dishes and a scrawny boy in tow. "Our fare may be little to your liking, I'm afraid," she continued, abrasive contempt in her voice. "Kankuro and I tend to this castle, and we're plain folk, unaccustomed to elegance, despite the pretentiousness of the master."

"I'm sure my tastes are no more elegant than yours," Hinata said, longing to defend herself more adamantly from this woman's unfounded disdain. She sank onto the plush edge of the wide mattress, feeling awkward and offended. The boy, so externally similar to the tight-jawed woman that he must be her son, studied Hinata shyly from behind the cart as his mother began loading a large plate with food. Hinata felt dizzy as the first barrage of pleasant smells hit her—she didn't know how long she'd gone without food, only that her stomach was painfully vacant.

"Thank you," she whispered as the woman thrust the plate, brimming with delicious sights and scents, into her shaking hands. Her server only grimaced in response, and returned to the cart. As Hinata began soothing her savage hunger, the housekeeper poured a cup of tea and handed it to her son, who waited silently for "the guest" to finish. "Thank you," Hinata repeated, taking the cup and smiling weakly at the boy.

"You're welcome," he said, timidity overwhelmed for the moment by his fascination with an unfamiliar face. Emboldened by the stranger's smile, he ventured a soft, "I'm Moku."

"I'm Hinata." She dipped her head in the nearest movement to a bow she could manage, and Moku returned in kind. "Do you live here?" She felt foolish instantly—_of course he did, why else would he be in this ghastly place? _

He nodded, and a shadow of pain swept across his mother's face. "Always," he said, gray eyes dancing in a flickering study of Hinata's strange, soft features.

His scrutiny unsettled Hinata—his fascination impressed her as one born of fear and antipathy, and she blushed, ashamed. "With your okasan?" she asked, hoping to redirect his attention. Moku only nodded once more.

The dour woman behind him straightened and curtly bowed, scowling as though even perfunctory displays of respect for this interloper were distasteful to her. "Temari, the Hidden Castle's housekeeper," she said, with an expression that finished her introduction with, _As if that had any pertinence to you._

Feeling more unwelcome than ever, Hinata began furtively studying Moku, trying to see traces in his delicate frame of the cold-eyed master, or the blundering man-servant, Kankuro, who had carried Hanabi away. She wondered vaguely if there was a sterile method to broach the subject, but the housekeeper followed her curious stare, and interrupted her musing. "His otousan is dead," she said, startling Hinata with her icy, callous tone. "He displeased the master frequently enough to earn himself a place in the dungeon, and he was too weak to survive there long."

"Why stay?"_ Why would anyone stay, bound to a monster who punished and tortured his minions at the directions of his caprice?_

Temari's brow crinkled, as though she herself was unsure. "The Tanuki is my brother," she said finally, ruffling her son's hair with desperate, rough tenderness. _He is all I have_, her hands whispered in the boy's untidy yellow mane—an apology of sorts to this poor caged soul, whose crippled future she bore alone as a necessary but excruciating grief.

"Oh," was the best Hinata could manage. _Oh. Oh, I am so, so very sorry. _

"I could leave," Temari insisted, bristling at the pity and sorrow in Hinata's face. "The castle's not enchanted, whatever lies _he_ may feed you, and I could best him if he tried to impede me. But…"

Hinata's mind raced to fill the silence with explanation. All that came to her was Hana-chan's face. Not the howling, tormented waif of this dungeon, but the brave, cheerful, impish Hanabi of home. Full of laughter and beauty and peace. A Hanabi that was lost to her for always.

And then, a crescendo of empathy drowned her dissonant self-pity. She saw Temari's adoration of her son, and knew, with almost miraculous clarity, that once those big hands had clasped the small fingers of the young Tanuki with a love that she, Hinata, understand above all other loves in the world. The love of onee for otouto or imouto: the unassailable love of Older Sister, heavy as fear and precious as home.

And she knew that she would have stayed as well. Temari remained in this bitter place for Subaku no Gaara—for her brother's sake. Just as Hinata had chosen for Hanabi's sake.

"I'd like more tea, please," she said, more abruptly than she'd meant, and almost blinked in surprise along with Temari. But as Moku scrambled to refill the cup, Temari's expression softened, and Hinata was stunned and delighted to find gratitude in the corners of the hard, tired eyes.

"Of course," the housekeeper said, watching Moku pour the tea with pride as well as expert appraisal.

Hinata knew, knew the sound of love in a voice and the weight of love on a brow, and felt both keen joy and pain to discover its tyrannous presence in the weary housekeeper. Here, the language of love was rough as a cat's tongue: not the caress of kind words that she knew in Konoha. She had not understood it, disheartened by the harshness of this world and its sounds, and now she could make out, here and there, a phrase of kindness among what had once sounded like meaningless croaks and hoarse condemnations.

"Here," the boy told her, again handing her the tea. She saw this time that he handled the beautiful china with a care and patience unusual for most boys his age.

Temari corrected him. "For you, Hinata-hime."

"For you, Hinata-hime," he repeated dutifully, but a smile sparked from his baby teeth and caught in his mother's eyes.

"Arigato, Moku-kun," she returned, and they repeated their half-bows, this time with more enthusiasm.

"All right, well, let's let Hinata-hime enjoy her tea in peace," Temari said, giving her son a brisk pat on the shoulder. At the door, she turned and nodded to Hinata, before closing the door behind her. "Ring for me when you've finished with the cart," she said, and was gone.


End file.
